The Trials and Tribulations of a Snapeophile
by Serena Snape
Summary: My first attempt at writing about Snape. Just a little story about me humiliating myself in front of Hogwarts' sexiest teacher!
1. 1

I do not own Severus Snape or any other characters you might recognise here, they all belong to the amazing JK Rowling. I only own my fantasy self.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Miss Aylward," he hissed, "I believe I have told you at least once every week for over five years not to swing on your stool?"

I scrambled to my feet - _very dignified, Serena_ - and brushed a stray spider from my robes.

"I suppose it's too much," he continued, "to hope you might actually learn from your mistakes". One carefully raised eyebrow perfectly complemented a tone of voice positively dripping with sarcasm.

__

Oops.

If it wasn't for the fact I am fortunate enough to be a proud member of Slytherin House, I expect I would have been forced to chop Malfoy's slugs, clean the entire dungeons and write a 6 foot essay on "Why Swinging on One's Stool is Dangerous and How I Intend to Stop" by now. And have 30 points docked from my House, of course.

I mumbled an apology and resumed my place taking notes as Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, continued to scowl at me with an expression of contempt usually reserved for Gryffindors alone.

Ah yes, the Gryffindors. The only one left taking Potions on for the N.E.W.T.s was Hermione Granger, naturally. She was taking as many subjects as possible, whereas Harry and Ron at least had the sense to drop a subject taught by a teacher who loathed them. Actually, despite what Baby-Boy Malfoy and his childminders might think, Hermione's not too bad, for a Gryffindor. Works too hard though!

Mercifully, it wasn't too long before the bell shattered the silence of Snape's class, and I could escape.

How embarrassing! I made an idiot of myself in front of Snape again! Mind you, at least it meant he spoke to me. I'm not good enough at Potions to warrant praise, but not so badly behaved that I get singled out either. Well, not usually. Were it not for my unfortunate inability to sit still, I would never hear him address me, never hear that silky-soft, quietly menacing voice which send shivers up and down my spine ... a-hem. Where was I?

Actually, where am I? I may be a Sixth Year, but I don't know every single part of the school, and this looks suspiciously close to Gryffindor territory. It's sunny, for a start. I'd better find my way back to the dungeons.

***

Unfortunately, that seems to be easier said than done. I've been wandering around for half an hour, and I've still no idea where I am!

Oh no ... as if I hadn't already been humiliated enough today ... here comes Snape, sneering at me. Does my hair look all right, I wonder?

"As far as I am aware, Miss Aylward" - _cue shivers again!_ - "You neither study Divination nor belong to Gryffindor House. Which leads me to question your motives for loitering here."

"Er ... I'm lost."

"Lost?" A brief look of incredulity, then the sneer returned. "A Sixth Year, one of my own students nonetheless, cannot even find her way from my classroom to the Slytherin Common Room? Why, pray, should I believe that? What can have fascinated you to the extent that you could end up at the other end of the school, three floors up from your intended destination, which was just around the corner?"

What could I say? 

__

Oh please, Professor Snape, I was thinking about how awful it was to fall off my stool in front of you when I really fancy you and I love your seductively smooth voice and the way your black robes billow and then it suddenly occurred to me to wonder what you wore underneath said robes.

Hmmm. Perhaps not. So I avoided the question.

"Could you show me the right way back to the Common Room, sir?"

He looked at me, almost as if he was about to say something, but then thought the better of it, and turned instead.

"This way. And keep up, Miss Aylward, I wouldn't like to be forced to take points away from my own House."

***

I don't believe it. I really cannot do this Potions essay. And considering how much of a bunch of dunderheads the other Slytherin Potions students are, and the fact that I won't see Hermione until the lesson this essay's due in, I really have no other option. I'll have to go and see Snape about it. As if he wasn't sick of the sight of me already! Oh dear. He won't be pleased to see me - he's never pleased to see any students anyway - but I suppose it's better than being given 2/10 when I hand it in.

And it will give me ample opportunity to study him at close quarters ... no! I must pay attention!!!

I stumbled nervously along the candlelit corridors clutching my textbooks, parchment, ink, and favourite quill. Slytherin green, of course. All too quickly I was there, trembling - calm! calm! - as I knocked.

"Yes?" he asked, irritably. I assumed this was an invitation to poke my carefully-preened head around the door.

He was staring intently into a simmering cauldron, right arm poised with a bright blue vial ready to pour. The cauldron gave they only light in the room, shining brilliant white onto his scowling face. I could have watched him for hours ...

He looked round at me, breaking the spell - to coin a Muggle phrase. "Yes, Miss Aylward?" he sighed, exasperated.

"I ... er, um ... can't work out where to go with this Advanced Sleeping Potions essay. I've been working on it for hours, but..." I trailed off, feeling stupid.

"Show me your essay." I already knew my pitiful efforts amounted to only 2 feet, and watched as Snape's expression moved between disgust, horror and cruel amusement.

__

Oh come on, it's not that bad, is it? But eventually, he looked back round at me. Evidently it was.

"Sit down, and pay attention. I would suggest you take notes."

I picked up my quill and a spare piece of parchment, ready to give him my undivided attention. As usual.

* * *

Half an hour later, my arm was tired, my brain was hurting, but my ears when still ringing with the deep, strangely melodious sound of his voice. Mmm!

"Is that clear, Miss Aylward?"

"I think so, Professor."

"You think so?" he said, in a slightly mocking tone.

"Erm ... yes." I cursed my stupid brain. Idiot! "Thank you, Professor."

I hastily gathered my things, trying to keep my best Slytherin-flirt-on-the-prowl smile in place, and turned slowly towards the door. I opened it, looked over my shoulder, and glided out of the room.

Falling flat on my face as I tripped over my shoelace.

__

Damn!

That just about sums up my day - making an idiot of myself in front of the most attractive man in the world over and over again! I'd best retreat to my room and write this essay before I do anything _else_ stupid.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Do you like it? My first attempt at fanfic, so please read and review!


	2. 2

A/N: Not mine, never has been, never will be. I only own my fictional self and the embarrassing situations I find myself in.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter Two

Well, however bad my written work may be, at least I can brew a Dreamless Sleep Potion - the last thing I wanted was to be haunted by memories of what an idiot I was yesterday! Today **will** be different, I swear by Salazar himself! Just as soon as I've got out of bed, I mean.

__

A carefully-fixed black velvet choker (hurrah for Placement Charms) should get his attention with my white throat … just as well he isn't a vampire .. green nails, as ever. Madam Malkin's robes are the most flatteringly-tailored you'll find this side of the Urals, praise Circe … there. Better hurry or I'll miss breakfast - you can't go daydreaming on an empty stomach, after all!

Mmm … there's pumpkin pie! I can't resist pumpkin pie for breakfast, however fattening it may be! Wait a moment, where's Snape? My mind rushed off on an increasingly wild and improbable train of thought.

__

Perhaps he's not well, or he's in the hospital wing, all alone - poor Snape! Or perhaps he's avoiding me because I'm such an idiot - oh no! Or perhaps he's slipped and he's lying injured somewhere, all by himself …

"Oi, Aylward!" My train of thought was interrupted by Draco Malfoy's sneering voice. "What's the daydream about? Though I expect if I gave you 5 Knuts for your thoughts, I'd get change." About half the table laughed, whilst the others simply adopted the usual policy of ignoring the self-proclaimed leader of Slytherin. I gave him a withering look as I abruptly left the table, heading towards the dungeons.

The Potions Classroom door was locked.

"Alohomora," I whispered.

I should have known better than that, of course. _There must be something I have to do, a sequence, a part of the door I have to tap …_

"Miss Aylward, is there something you wanted?"

__

Oh no, Not again. Why? Why does this always happen? Why???

"Erm …"

"Well?"

__

Oh Professor Snape, I saw you weren't at breakfast, and I was really worried so I made it my mission to come and find you because I could picture you lying half-dead somewhere, and I was hoping to come and rescue you and then you would be eternally grateful and fall for me …

I resort to my usual embarrassed silence.

"This is the second time in two days I have found you creeping around the school without a reasonable explanation. I hope this is not the beginning of a most unwelcome pattern. I suggest you either return to the Great Hall, or prepare for your first lesson. I do not expect this to happen again."

His deep black eyes were staring into mine, never breaking contact, trying to perceive … something.

"No, Professor Snape." I said, and hurried away towards the relative safety of our common room.

__

Damn, damn, damn! I am **such** an idiot! Can he read minds? I've often wondered, but now I **really** think he can. Oh no! What if he can? He could have seen just what I was thinking about him, and then he'd … he'd … do something nasty and humiliating, even though I'm a Slytherin. Or perhaps he'd be flattered. But the Snape I know **certainly** wouldn't show it, even if he was.

My quiet reflections were interrupted by the first of a steady trickle of my housemates returning from breakfast.

"All right, Serena?" asked Blaise, in a reasonably concerned voice for a Slytherin accustomed to hiding most of her thoughts and emotions.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I replied briskly. "What do we have first, Arithmancy?"

"Yes. I'll just get my stuff."

"Hey wait, I have to get mine too!"

***

As we filed in for lunch, I steadfastly ignored Snape's gaze, focusing straight ahead. But once we were seated and had begun eating, I couldn't help glancing occasionally towards the staff table. Call me self-centred, but I could have sworn he kept looking in my direction.

"Nervous tic, Aylward?" asked Pansy Parkinson maliciously. "Or perhaps you're trying to catch somebody's eye … now who could it be? Dumbledore, Flitwick, Hagrid - " she snorted - "or … Snape."

I had to think fast.

"None of them. The first three? Oh please. And why would I fancy the greasy-haired git?" I lied.

"I would suggest, Miss Aylward," I heard a silky voice say behind me, "that in future you check that the person you are insulting is well out of earshot. Detention, Miss Aylward, tomorrow night at nine o'clock, for three hours."

In spite of my embarrassing predicament, I couldn't help feeling every syllable as a caress, sending the familiar shivers down my spine as he said my name.

"Professor Snape, sir? Why tomorrow night, not tonight?" I asked, perhaps a trifle too cheerily given my situation.

"Because tonight, Miss Aylward, I have to deal with Potter and his two greatest fans. Your year really is the most troublesome in the school." And with that, he swept away, his black cloak billowing behind him with every well-placed step as I struggled to suppress a lustful sigh.

__

Just how can he be so sexy???

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: There's the second chapter! I intend to write one more if enough people ask nicely!


	3. 3

A/N: Still not mine, malheureusement … only my idiotic self sheepish grin.

****

Not yet complete, but trying to give you all a little (admittedly belated) Christmas present - Merry Christmas!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter Three

The wait until my detention made the next 32 or so hours seem intolerably long.

__

You know, only you would actually look forward to detention, Serena.

After a few minor adjustments to my hair at the end of the day (styling spells having always been my forte), I left the Slytherin Common Room at precisely five minutes to 9. Poorly attempting to suppress the spring in my step, I walked carefully through the familiar corridors. (Carefully, so as to avoid a repeat performance of my last spectacular trip in Snape's presence …)

Of course, given the proximity of the Slytherin quarters to the Potions classroom, at two minutes to 9 I was hovering outside the door. I didn't dare be late, but I suspected that being early would be an equally unwise move. Having detention with Snape was simply too good to be true - I couldn't mess it up - not this time!

__

Breathe, breathe … it generally helps … ok, calmly now …

As my emerald-encrusted watch struck the hour, I knocked on the heavy oaken door.

"Yes?" barked an irritable voice from within.

"Professor Snape, sir? I'm here for my detention. I hope I'm not late," I prattled, nervously hovering in the doorway.

"No, Miss Aylward, I think a brief consultation of your watch would confirm that you are exactly on time," he snapped back.

__

Oh great. He's in a bad mood. Just my luck!

"Sit down," he said, indicating the front middle desk. I obeyed, noting the variety of Potions ingredients arrayed before me, including some rather unpleasant-looking … things.

"You will chop these mandrakes, skin the Shrivelfigs, cube all these roots and dissect the Flobberworms."

__

Eurgh. I should have known.

"When you have completed this, you will store each ingredient correctly in the students' supply cupboard and collect your next assignment - "

__

What can he have planned which is worse than that?

" - an essay on the prudence of holding one's tongue, with particular reference to charms and potions which may be of use in the attainment of this ideal", he continued with a sneer. "I expect both tasks to have been completed to my satisfaction by midnight. I also expect complete silence - unless you run into potentially fatal difficulties. I have better things to do than clean up after an indiscreet sixth-year student," he concluded, indicating a large pile of marking on his desk.

__

How fatal can dead Flobberworms be?

I mutely obeyed, moving to my seat. Arranging my equipment before me, I carefully placed a spare tin tray at the right angle to show me Snape's reflection - allowing me to surreptitiously watch him whilst doing my work!

__

Genius, Serena! I surprise myself sometimes …

***

A short hour later, I had finished preparing the ingredients. With a sigh, I moved those, the life-enhancing tray and the other (far more lowly) equipment to the store cupboard. Snape's watchful and wary eyes followed me.

__

Remember to walk seductively … but not too obviously seductively … help! How am I supposed to know how much is too much without a mirror?

I returned to my desk and drew out my parchment and Black Swan Quill ("Guaranteed to make him notice your notes!") to begin the essay. His eyes returned to his work, methodically dealing out good marks to his Slytherins, fair ones to the Ravenclaws (grudgingly respected for their intelligence) and Hufflepuffs (generally useless anyway), and low grades to Gryffindors with startlingly rapid efficiency.

"Is there a problem, Miss Aylward?" he enquired in a dangerously low voice.

__

Busted …

I had clearly been observing him too openly - and had been caught red-handed. _Back to work on this essay then, before he gets too suspicious - only an hour and a half left!_ I tried very hard to concentrate on the task in hand, rather than the fleeting glimpses of his busy hands which kept distracting me.


End file.
